


born on a ray of sound

by ragnarok89



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Developing Friendships, Early Work, Gen, Hair Dyeing, High School, Humor, Inspired by Music, Internal Conflict, Introspection, Makeup, Mirrors, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV Alternating, Punk Rock, School, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Shyness, Teenage Rebellion, Transformation, United Kingdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24674788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragnarok89/pseuds/ragnarok89
Summary: Nothing like the hellions they call punks, and she knew that she never would be.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	born on a ray of sound

She bought the hair dye.

That was the first step.

Next was the spiked collar.

She received a few stares because of that.

....and the blood red lipstick.

From that point on, Alex was not sure if she was going to go through with this, as she looked in the mirror and narrowed her eyes.

The plain Jane in front of her narrowed her eyes too, short brown hair at both sides, a little blemish, and dressed in everything that would simply be called 'normal. Nothing stood out, and if she was dressed like she always had, she wouldn't stand out either.

She never got into trouble at school or in everything else, and when she did, it would be completely by accident and not of her own volition. She dressed in a way that was not scandalous or out there, and she never really stood out, which made her unable to float, to be a part of more than one group.

All she could do was nod shyly.

Simply blend in with the crowd, and not cause any trouble or any upset in the school.

Nothing changes....

The disconnected, ragged, and inhuman singing would disrupt her thoughts time and again, whenever she would be in school and she would pass by the group that seemed to be always in a corner. The three boys and one girl in that punk group were practically drenched in silver-studded black leather, topped off with lip piercings and nose rings adorned by spiked hair jutted out in all directions. The portable stereo would blare the lyrics of oppression and anti-establishment while they simply bobbed their heads in tune with the song.

She had found herself tapping her foot to the beat, ignited by the rhythm that was impossible to remove from her head. Even when the group was long gone from the hallways, the music was still there in her mind, caught like a virus that was not going to go away any time soon.

She stopped in her tracks one second in one moment, just earlier that day, when she heard the burning tongues of that group, wielding their instruments outside the school just after school dismissal. They had always stood by in the corners of the school, lurking and being the makeshift demons, they were, in the background but standing completely out.

“Wrong chord, ya dick!"

"Aw, sorry, mate."

"This is stupid - how long are these knob-heads going to play a ballad with that note?"

"I dunno, but I do what this tosser will be called, I'll tell ya that - 'My Fist, Your Face'!"

"Nice one, Mock."

"Oh, don't be a lil' fooker and patronize me - this song just can't be just some cheap gimme cash-in with tears and lil' sobs attached."

"To fight fire with fire, eh?"

"You got that right, Looma."

Alex had not heard of those names before, Mock and Looma, but they were one with their style, unknown, very underground, but rising to the surface.

The music would start playing by then, the anarchic harmonized notes not what she was used to hearing, the music lashing out with burning tongues, chilling lungs, and cries for change turned into guttural roars without stopping. The concerts for these would be nothing but pure chaos, standing against the voices of oppression and the status quo, making things rumble and tumble with excitement and the lust for destruction would be too good to pass up by then.

The punks, that's what they were called, a revolutionary group that used music to destroy silence while wearing the shells of demons encased in pretty faces and outspoken outfits, seeping red as far as the eye can see.

She was back in reality as she saw the person in the mirror again - just herself.

Normal.

Boring.

One of them.

The status quo.

Nothing like the hellions they call punks, and she knew that she never would be.

Not even with the lipstick, hair dye, or the collar.

Even if she tried, she would never fit with the punks, not even if she tried.

She jolted from those thoughts and shook her head quickly.

What was she thinking - to dress herself up and be different?

She picked up the hair dye in the can, stared little holes into it, narrowing her eyes again, and closed her eyes.

Opening it, index finger on the spray, and pressed upon it.

When she opened her eyes, her short brunette hair had evolved into dark blue hair.

She stood silently, staring back transfixed as her own hair was sapphire, and was in awe.

Her heart leapt in her chest.

It was really happening.

It was not a dream.

The new Alex was here in front of her.

She was frozen in place, breathing deeply as she came closer.

She smiled excitedly as she started to put the lipstick on, her formerly bland mouth now rose red, and her bare neck now adorned with a spiked collar.

The hellion was there now, and she was ready.

**Author's Note:**

> First time putting up one of my original stories here, which was one I actually wrote for a Soundscapes class back in university years ago. 
> 
> Comments/thoughts appreciated!


End file.
